The Waiting Game
by Pens-Have-Power
Summary: Sherlock has returned, but John's moved on from a passionate love that happened almost three years prior. It seems like the roles are reversed: Sherlock now has to endure a long waiting game for John to be his again. Raited T for now.


_Hello there! _

_This is my first fanfiction on this website, and the first that I've written about Johnlock. The story gets interesting as it progresses - just be patient! I'll be planning to update this every Friday. Of course I'd love to hear what you think of the story. Every comment counts! _

_By the way: I do not own the books involving Sherlock Holmes or the BBC series Sherlock or any of it's characters (even though I've begged for it). _

_I'll leave you to it, then! _

_~ PensHavePower_

* * *

In a split second, two men's lives changed forever.

It was a difficult subject for both parties. Everything moved so fast without him; everyday seemed like it wasn't real. Movements the men made felt cold and lifeless without the other to guide him. The whole world was non-existant and dull.

The event that changed them happened so quickly that neither had time to catch their breath. Both men haven't let go of that last draw of oxygen that happened so long ago.

Every second hurt.

John had tried to move on, his mind replaying his lover's death that was all his fault over and over again. All he said was 'Don't jump,'. That was the last conversation, the last words that were passed from John's mouth into the brunette's ear. He should have said 'I love you', anything other than don't jump. He took the blame for his love's suiside. He took the blame for everything.

A tender ache filled the ex-military man whenever he thought of Sherlock - which was always. He had countless one night stands with many woman who he wasn't even interested in or even deserved a broken man like himself. He had spent many nights in appartment 221B crying alone, tucked into Sherlock's bed, inhaling the faiding fragrince of the smartest man John knew.

Almost every time he felt that ache, she was there.

Mary was there for John threw it all: the bitter memories and the good ones, the sad and the happy, the good, the bad, the ugly, and still treated John with kindness and respect. She was lending a helping hand even though she didn't quite understand the full extent of the two men's relationship.

She had still comforted John through his losses. She even convinced him after six months to move out of the appartment and live with her for a while, just until John got back on his feet again.

Things didn't go quite as planned.

Mary had fallen for John. John had played along. Although he did have some slight feelings for the woman, it was nothing comarped to what Sherlock made him feel. Eventually, John asked her to marry him, and of course, she said yes.

Almost three years had passed.

One million, five hundered seventy-five thousand, seven hundred and ninty-nine days.

The three year anniversiary of the tragic event was tomorrow.

After all this time, when the newlywed couple were snug in their bed, arms wrapped around in a sleepy embrace, John couldn't help but remember Sherlock's thin, cold fingers and touches. He couldn't help but dream about how somehow they seemed to jolt with electricity when he carassed John's cheek. All this time had passed and yet... he was still in love with the man.

But Sherlock is dead.

He had thought for a time that Sherlock was alive and was going to come back to him. Through the years, his wife and counsiler convinced him otherwise. That little flickering light of hope had died out. Sherlock wasn't going go magically re-appear at John and Mary Watson's front door and wrap his arms around the dirty-blonde. He was gone. If he was alive, the man would certianly be here by now.

John had done his waiting.

It was almost three years worth of waiting. On the very day Sherlock was prenouced dead by himself, a dull knock came at the door, following a low pitched "John," that couldn't possibly be his wife returning from the grosery store.

Sherlock had returned.

And John, for the first time, didn't want to see him.


End file.
